Mrs Commodore
by GreenWood Elf
Summary: Commodore Norrington’s wife loves her husband dearly, but when she finds that their relationship has become strained she enlists Captain Sparrow and his crew to help patch up their marriage.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to my fic "Mrs. Commodore." A few notes before me begin. Firstly, even though I have this fic plotted out nicely I am posting it more as an experiment. So if you like it, please review and tell me so. I have posted it mainly to see what response I will get with this plot so there is a chance of it coming down and getting reworked. Secondly, this is a strictly Norrington/OC fic, there will be no Jack/OC as it may seem. Thirdly, this is not an unrequited love, angst fic, in fact I intend it to be humorous and have its share of action-adventure. Well, I think that does it for now. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.

**Summary**

Commodore Norrington's wife loves her husband dearly, but when she finds that their relationship has become strained she enlists Captain Sparrow and his crew to help patch up their marriage.

**Mrs. Commodore**

**Chapter One A Family Man**

Commodore Norrington walked slowly up the brick path that led to his house. Rosebushes lined the walkway, heavy with crimson blossoms. The lawns were trimmed and even the vines that crawled about the gazebo towards the back of the gardens had a neat, precise look about them. Brilliant violets basked in the warm rays of the setting sun. Lilies bowed gracefully from amongst a cluster of well-groomed hedges. The air rested humidly about him with the thick perfume of the gardens pressing close like a lover's kiss.

He paused and let his gaze catch upon the purring sea just visible from the front of the manor. The fashionable house was not his first in Port Royal but rather his second. It looked more like the home of a family man instead of a naval commander. But times change and tides shift. No longer could he define his life just by his rank.

Turning back up the path he moved towards the house. Paces from the door, however, a clamor rang from the back where the stables stood. The tapping of hooves and frantic snorts pierced the quietude.

"Whoa there lassie! Keep steady!" Men grunted, a horse whinnied nervously. Norrington sighed, he knew that whinny all too well. The clatter ceased and a gate swung shut forcefully. A young man trotted around to the front of the house. The lad appeared no more than seventeen with pink skin that flushed easily. He had not been in Caribbean long.

"Charles!" The boy spun around at the sound of his name and straightened up as he saw his employer.

"Sir." He bowed smartly and shuffled his feet so as to hide the grass stains on his tan breeches.

"What's all the fuss?" Norrington asked, brows knitting together in concern. The boy had never appeared so undone before.

"Bit o'trouble sir," Charles said, raking a hand through his blond hair where it stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Good Lord," Norrington muttered tersely. "Maeve again I suppose? That blasted beast."

Charles nervously shrunk back at his words. "Mistress didn't want anyone to tell you sir."

"Never mind Charles, I'm sure you did you best."

"Yes sir." Now the boy swelled at the compliment. "If I may say so, sir, that mare has the devil in her. Unruliest creature I've ever handled."

"So it would seem." The Commodore walked a few paces and caught hold of the doorknob. "Don't worry yourself over it."

Charles nodded and dashed back around to the stable yard. Norrington pushed open the white door only to have it pulled out of his clutches. The beaming face of a child appeared in the small opening.

"Papa!" With a board smile Norrington scooped the little boy into his arms.

"Hello there James. Had a pleasant day?" His son squirmed in his arms, chubby fingers fiddling with the gold facings on his uniform coat.

"Mmm, horses!" Little James exclaimed and thumped his legs against his father's stomach. Though only three and a half years old the boy displayed both the physical and mental characteristics of his father, his dark brown hair matched his serious yet gentle face that seemed to mimic the Commodore's own.

"Horses?" Norrington asked, feeling a certain degree of trepidation brought on by Charles's harried manner.

Little James's eyes brightened and he clung to his father's neck. "Maeve jumped a fence and ran away."

"Oh dear." The very mention of the mare's name made his body tense. Why his wife ever kept such a wild horse…

"This high." Little James held out his hand and let it lay in the air by Norrington's shoulder to show the height of the particular fence. "Ran fast."

"James!" A delicate voice scolded from the parlor door. Nelly gathered her skirts and rushed down the hall. "Mama said not to tell."

But Little James smiled smugly and rested his head on his father's shoulder.

"No greeting for your father?" Norrington held out his free arm and the girl rushed into his half embrace.

"I'm sorry Papa," she mumbled, turning her rosy face up to gaze at him. "James wasn't supposed to tell. Mama will be angry."

"No." Little James glared down at his older sister. His small feet dangled just above her copper curls. Nelly frowned and her blue eyes went soft with worry.

"But Papa…"

"It is no matter," Norrington interrupted, earning a quizzical look from his six year old daughter. She too had a serious disposition like her father but often she displayed the calm confidence of her mother. "Come, let us see where Mama is."

"In there," Little James offered, pointing down the hallway to the dining room door. Norrington placed his son on the floor and let him run ahead. Nelly, however, twisted the lace on her sleeve and looked at her father pensively.

"He wasn't supposed to tell," she said slowly.

"I won't say a word," he replied, touching her cheek. She smiled gratefully and followed her brother into the dining room.

The Commodore removed his hat and placed it on a small side table in the hallway. Running his hands over his wig he smoothed the hair and made sure the rolls of curls where in place. After nearly seven years of marriage he still tried to look pleasant for his wife. It was the least he could do. Adjusting his jacket, he rounded the corner and stepped into the dining room. The bright light from the setting sun streamed in through the windowpanes blinding him for an instant. But moving further into the room the shining rays died and he could see once more.

"No good," his wife said. She sat at the end of the long table. The white linen tablecloth looked yellowed in the beams of the strong sun, but her tawny hair burned. A maid stood nearby, waiting dutifully as her mistress inspected the silverware. "No good," she repeated and picked up a grimy looking spoon. "Needs to be washed."

"Yes mistress." The servant curtsied and bore the tray of silverware out of the room.

"James," her somewhat firm voice washed over him. "I didn't hear you come in my dear." She rose and pushed the chair back with her hips.

"Maeve jumped a fence," Little James added excitedly, unable to contain himself.

"See! See what I said Mama," Nelly snapped. "Never tell him anything, he can't keep a secret."

"Yes I can." Little James went red with indignation and held his small head up proudly.

"Hush." Their mother laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "Your Papa's just come home. Now is not the time for bickering." The children hushed. And just as she had been stern a moment ago, a small smile creased her freckled faced and lightened her eyes. Her cheekbones stuck out too much though and highlighted her already large nose.

"Emer." Norrington moved forward and kissed her. She was of an odd sort, quiet with either a stern face or a gentle smile. She did not speak much and when she did her words were simple and strong. But if he could be certain of one thing, he knew that she loved him dearly. Unfortunately, he could not say the same for himself. Norrington shook the horrid thoughts within him, dispelling them with a caring glance at his wife. "Maeve had another 'incident'," he said carefully.

Emer's smile lit the room, rivaling the orange sunbeams. "You should have seen it James. One of the stable lads left her stall open just enough and she bolted. Straight over the garden wall, arched her neck nicely all the while." Her enthusiasm puzzled him, as did the love for her horse that never seemed content in the stable.

"I can't imagine," Norrington replied.

"No, you can't. She is a hunter for sure." A hint of her brogue came out when she spoke excitedly, he noted. Perhaps she had not lost it after all.

"What's a hunter?" Little James bobbed up and down just behind his mother.

"A horse used for fox hunting," Norrington answered him.

"No foxes here." Little James scrunched up his face in thought.

"No, child," Emer said, her words riding on a sigh. "Not here, in England though and Ireland."

"She's a danger," Norrington continued, wheeling back to the original topic of the feisty Maeve. "That horse will injure someone."

Emer shook her head. "She is gentle James. Just needs a stretch of her legs every now and then. She won't do any harm."

Norrington left it at that, though he never fully understood his wife's wisdom.

"Mistress." The maid reappeared. "Dinner is about ready."

Emer nodded. The maid took this as a sign of dismissal and left. The servants had long become accustomed to their mistress's silent commands. Emer turned her beaming regard back on her husband. Norrington suddenly felt uncomfortable under her loving gaze, like a pirate that pretends to be an honest merchant sailor.

"Wash, children." The children made faces but again obeyed. The sound of their feet ran up the stairs until they thundered above in the nursery. His wife gently grasped his forearm, her powerful gaze caught his. "I must see to them."

"Yes." With little thought he leaned down and gave her a departing kiss. She sallied from the room. Norrington did not watch her go. Instead his eyes caught the ocean that glinted just outside. It was a faceless companion, a place where his shame would never be judged. The waters shone like liquid gold near the horizon while pools of indigo churned closer to the rocks. He did love his wife, he decided. And of course he treasured his children more than anything. Yet still, a thought haunted the back of his mind and like a galleon parting the mist it became all the more clearer. She looked the same as she had seven years ago when she accepted his proposal aboard the Dauntless. His heart still beat brokenly, for Elizabeth Swann.

**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading. I apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes that might have occurred. Due to circumstances out of my control I have not had a beta for this fic and I did my best to eliminate any errors that I found. If you would, however, be interested in betaing my Pirates of the Caribbean fics, please contact me. Thanks again!


	2. Chapter Two A Gale

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter two. I had some extra time this week so I was able to get this chapter done. I'd like to thank those that have reviewed, Mystress Daedra, Charlotte Norrington and Madam Librarian. I'd also like to thank my new beta Mystress Daedra for her help with this chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.

**Chapter Two A Gale**

Dinner was a quiet affair. The children sat easily across from their parents and kept to their manners. Little James, however, never failed to mention Maeve's escapade earlier that day. It clearly had impressed him greatly. Norrington began to wonder if he didn't have a little of his mother in him after all.

Nelly sat silent with a wistful smile lying on her pink lips. She swung her legs about and gazed out the window at the gathering twilight. The air cooled a bit as the sun finally disappeared below the western horizon. The servants hurried in to light the candles. Emer, as usual, was silent. Her face looked serene and almost without a care. She held her fork daintily between her long, bony fingers and listened intently to Norrington's talk of the day. Rarely, did she add a word to it herself.

"Lieutenant Groves received a letter from his brother in England," Norrington said lightly. Sometimes he got tired of hearing only his voice at the table. "The lad is interested in a career with the Navy." He paused, but Emer said nothing. She continued to watch him, the slight flicker behind her eyes showing what she thought of the matter.

Norrington cleared his throat and shifted. He would soon run out of things to talk about and like every dinner they had shared with each other since their wedding day, it would likely be finished in silence.

"What's hunting?" Little James asked solemnly. The subject had lodged itself in his mind since he heard his mother mention it earlier.

"Well…" Norrington began, but Emer's firm voice rode over his.

"When horses and hounds chase after a fox or hare or some other type of game."

Nelly, now interested by the conversation, tore her eyes away from the beautiful twilight that shimmered just out the window. The candles in the dining room seemed to glow brighter as the sky darkened to ebony.

"What do they do if the horses and hounds catch the fox?" Nelly asked. Norrington cringed. This was the one part of fatherhood he detested, answering all the difficult questions his children tended to pose.

"They will kill the animal," Emer said. Norrington suppressed a groan and glanced at his wife who sat comfortably beside him. Nelly paled, and Little James stared at his mother, astonished. Another moment of uneasiness passed. Norrington let his fork roll over the cooked carrots on his plate. Why did she have to…?

Emer had a strange way about the children. She remained fiercely honest with them at all times. He knew she was unique in this way. Norrington had seen the way Elizabeth Turner nurtured her own young son, quite different from his wife's ways.

Little James started to cry. Nelly said nothing but kept her bright eyes fixed on the linen tablecloth. Without a word Emer rose, walked around the table and reached for Little James. For a moment she cradled the child and then left the room to carry him up to bed. Nelly looked at her father tensely.

"Papa, may I?"

"Yes, you may Nelly." Now the girl seemed happy that she wouldn't have to finish her dinner and skipped out of the room and up the stairs. She truly was her mother's child.

Norrington found that he too had little appetite and decided to retire to the parlor. A fire glowed dimly in the hearth, used more for light than heat. He threw open the windows facing the bay and let the mild ocean breeze stroke his cheeks. It bothered him greatly that he thought about Elizabeth more than a married man should think about a married woman. Perhaps if his own marriage had not been, as Lieutenant Gillette had put it on his wedding day, the product of a broken heart, things would be better. Of course, that was not the only reason he married his wife, though still Gillette's words haunted him.

He remembered that day in Port Royal seven years ago. The wind blew fiercely through the bay and the ships bounced along the waves. Never before had the sky been a more pleasant blue. The ship carrying her and her father came in just before noon. The old man had been affected by the chilly breezes of his homeland in Ireland. A doctor suggested that his family retreat to the Caribbean for some time. As was proper, Norrington soon made the acquaintance of the wealthy gentleman and his quiet daughter. He couldn't recall how a courtship was established, but it seemed a matter of days after their meeting before all of Port Royal knew about it. And when Emer's mother joined her family three months later in the Caribbean, Norrington proposed marriage.

Emer had not been a beauty of a woman, her face too bony and skin too pale. But Norrington cared for her quiet mannerisms and firm resolve. Just a short month after Elizabeth Swann's wedding, the couple had their own.

"The children of Lir had been turned into swans by their jealous stepmother," He was brought out of his thoughts as Emer's voice trickled down from upstairs, her words weaving a familiar bedtime story. "So aggrieved was their father that he turned his wife into a demon." Norrington remembered when her parents returned to Ireland. He had thought it would have bothered her more, but to this day she never mentioned it.

The sound of Emer's voice died. Footsteps echoed in the corridor. The Commodore turned away from the window just as his wife walked into the parlor. The chalky blue paint on the walls seemed to make her skin not look so dreadfully white.

"Bit fussy tonight," she remarked and moved towards her favorite sitting chair. Needlework lay abandoned on its left arm. "All the excitement with Maeve put James in a bad way."

"I think it was more the discussion at dinner that upset him," Norrington said, then immediately regretted his words. Emer cast him one of her stern glances. "Perhaps you could have been a bit less blunt, darling," he said softly and moved to sit opposite her in a winged chair.

"Life is too short not to be blunt with them," she replied and her fingers began to skip nimbly over her embroidery.

"They are young yet though."

"Ha! I rode the hunt when I was Nelly's age." For a brief instant she reminded him of Elizabeth with her bold words. But quickly, she returned to that demure serenity. Her eyes rested languidly beneath her brows.

Moments of silence hung in the warm air. Norrington watched the fire hissing in the hearth. It ate greedily at the log, snapping it in half after a good while. The noise startled him but Emer kept still. A gale blew up from the south and tickled the coast. Finally, a long streak of lightening touched the ocean. The black sea churned nastily and rain splattered the wind. All at once the sweet twilight disappeared and thunderous clouds racked the heavens.

"Sea's rough," she said gently. The kind smile had washed over her stern face once more. Emer never stayed mad for long.

"Yes," said Norrington a bit relieved.

"Maeve will have herself another run tomorrow. The storm excites her."

"Dear God." He rose to shut the windows as rain streamed in over the floor and then sat himself back down. "Can't you keep that mare locked up?"

Her smile widened and her fingers paused for a moment on her needlework. "Now James, I can't very well do that." Her brogue was out again, she sounded amused by the topic.

"Why not?"

"The lassie needs the use of legs. She can barely turn about in her stall and I haven't the time to ride her like I used to."

"But surely the grooms wouldn't mind giving Maeve a little exercise," Norrington said slowly. He would, however, have to double the pay he gave his grooms if he ordered them to do that.

"No, no, no," she mumbled, clucking her tongue slightly. "The horse won't listen to them. There would be more danger and injuries if I let one of them ride her."

"But she is calm about the children," he noted.

"That is because they are mine," she answered with an understanding smile. A sigh brought around her next words. "James, if you only did what you were supposed to do then we wouldn't have any difficulties."

"Difficulties?" Norrington laughed to hide his discomfort.

"Men ought to do what their wives wish," Emer said quietly and bent her eyes to the needlework once more. "If you let Maeve run about a bit then she will be tranquil."

"I fear she will trample someone in the streets," he put in. His wife suddenly laughed.

"Still upset about your arm?"

Norrington raised his head proudly; as he had the day he first caught Captain Jack Sparrow. "There was no reason for that beast to bite me."

"You were in her stall," she continued, laughing softly. Her eyes were awash with mirth.

"A well tamed horse is not so snappish."

"You were in her stall," she repeated. "Never enter a woman's domain." The clock struck ten from its place above the mantelpiece. Fire glinted in its indifferent face. Norrington stood once more and pulled the shutters carefully over the windows. The rest would be attended to by the servants.

"I daresay it's time we retire," he said, already halfway to the door. But his wife, as usual, had other plans.

"I'll join you in a minute." Her blue eyes locked on the needlework where fine flower petals were beginning to take shape. The Commodore paused uncomfortably by the door for a moment and watched her. He had been a good and faithful husband, but still he felt as though he had wronged her. Without a word he left and plodded up the stairs.

As soon as her husband was out of earshot Emer let out a shrill laugh. She admired her dear James greatly but he, like all men, happened to be a fool. Her father had always said she had the gift of perception, her mind being keen enough to pick up on all the words people didn't say. So she knew for quite some time that her husband fancied Mistress Turner. And from the word about Portal Royal, he had reason too. Her James had gone out on a limb for that girl, losing one of his most valuable ships and the lives of many of his men just to save her life. Of course he would still care for her.

The firelight had dimmed and Emer finally put aside her embroidery. Her fingers ached already from the careful work. Thunder echoed from the heavens. She rose and drew back the shutters that hid the storm from her view. Rain fell in torrents, lashing the windows. Every now and then she saw the silhouette of a palm tree being whipped about by the wind. The ocean no longer purred but roared.

Most women would fret and pine over such a problem in their marriage. Emer, though, saw it as a mere trifle to overcome. The matter was simple. Her James loved her but had never _fallen in love _with her. That could be remedied. The love they shared lay dormant, waiting to be revived. But how?

Lightening struck the ocean and outlined the shapes of ships struggling against the waves. Emer pressed herself against the damp window panes as inspiration flooded her. For a time her breath fogged the glass and she smiled. There was a way and it appeared as clear as the Caribbean waters on a sunny day. She just had to wait for the opportune moment….

Content in her thoughts she closed the shutters softly and hurried up the stairs. Somewhere in the back by the stables, Maeve kicked furiously at her stall.

**Author's Note: **Slow chapter, I know. But bear with me, Jack Sparrow makes his entrance in the next chapter and he will shake things up as always. Thanks for reading and please be sure to review. Happy Holidays!


	3. Chapter Three The Mare, the Sparrow and

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter three! Captain Sparrow finally makes his entrance in this one. I do hope I got him in character. I would like to thank all my readers and reviewers, Mystress Daedra, Charlotte Norrington, ElfLuver13 and Jackeroe. I would also like to thank my beta Mytress Daedra for her wonderful help with this chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.

**Chapter Three The Mare, the Sparrow and the Plan**

It was some time before dawn that Maeve broke out of her stall. The gale had ceased and the wind fell to a sweet whisper as she kicked free the already well battered latch. The wood creaked and the stall door swung open. She waited for a single minute, holding the glory of her newfound freedom with delicate care. Then bounding out into the dusty aisle, she trotted smartly out into the courtyard.

With one leap, Maeve defeated her old adversary, the garden wall. She gave a little flick with her tail as her haunches cleared it. Now all that lay before her was the sun burnt road that lead to the heart of Port Royal with the sea shifting endlessly beyond. The mare paused a moment and let the balmy air caress her flanks. Nostrils dilating, she lifted her head and sought the scents on the wind. The comforting smells of the stable, the salt grass, and the ripe tropical fruits. Raising her forelegs in a half rear, she galloped down to the sea.

Not many people saw the chestnut mare galloping down the golden embankments of sand, nor did many care. Maeve threw herself along the shoreline and let the incoming waves tickle her hooves. Then with a snort of delight, she fell to her knees and onto her side. Soon her heaving flanks were slick with moist sand. She rolled over and over, letting the rough grains scratch her back.

A sudden noise and the playful mare was on her feet, ears quivering as an invader stole up the beach. The muscles in her haunches pulled tense beneath the soft flesh. A man sauntered closer. He moved with ease at times but every now and then his feet stumbled. His brown cheeks were puffed out as he whistled some inane tune. Strange braids and beads twitched about his serene face and his eyes glowed like hot coals. Spotting Maeve, he stopped and pointed a curious finger in her direction. He looked wary for a moment, and then smiled. His smile was warm, genuine. Maeve relaxed.

"Are we quite alone, love?" he asked, curling his toes over the sand. The mare appraised him. Her brown eyes rolled inquisitively, the black lashes fanning her pupils. Her visitor chuckled and in a manner similar to hers, dropped to the ground.

Maeve arched her neck and snorted. The man smiled, his lips pressing against the gold teeth that glinted in the pale dawn light. He simply ignored her.

Enraged at such ignorance she plunged and kicked. No man could come to _her _beach without permission. Fortunately, the stranger realized his error. He grunted and groaned and climbed to his feet, still retaining a suave air.

"I'm sorry, milady. Forgive me rudeness. Name's Captain Sparrow. Jack Sparrow." And he bowed low enough for the ivory beads to brush the sands.

Maeve shook her mane and scattered the grains that stuck to her back. Jack didn't move. With a whicker of resignation she turned away and moved back up the road.

* * *

Norrington left early for the fort that morning, too early to know that Maeve had taken leave from her stall. By the time the mare returned the children and their mother were already having breakfast in parlor. Emer preferred not to take her meals in the dining room when it could be avoided. The parlor window faced the blooming gardens and the children took turns naming the birds that flew by. It was an easeful time of day, now only interrupted by the red faced groom, Charles.

"The chestnut mare had herself another run, mistress," he panted. Emer kept her eyes on the children, both of whom were eyeing the last piece of melon.

"Not hurt?" she said finally.

"No, mistress. She's wild eyed and fierce though." Charles managed, his arms scraped with dirt.

"She'll calm," Emer replied. A man had stepped into the gardens and through the corner of her eye she watched his progress. He moved among the lilies, the roses hugged his blue coated shoulders.

"What am I to do with her?"

"Put her in her stall."

"Mistress?"

"She'll calm." A squabble had broken out between Little James and Nelly over the melon. Emer nodded in dismissal and sent the haggard Charles trudging through the hallway.

"It's mine! Mama tell him!" Nelly squealed as Little James held the green slice of fruit aloft and tight within his small handed grasp. The man outside had disappeared from the garden. A knock rang sharply on the door announcing his arrival. The groom opened it to admit a dapper naval officer and stepped out himself. Lieutenant Gillette removed his hat respectfully and moved into the parlor.

"Good morning, Mrs. Norrington."

"Philip, how good to see you." Emer stood and a board smile stole over her bony features. The children immediately stopped their squabble at the sight of Gillette and hurried out of their chairs, the melon clearly forgotten on the table.

"Mister Philip!" Nelly caught him around the neck first as he knelt to greet them. Little James tottered slowly towards him and allowed himself to be hugged.

"What have you brought us?" he asked insistently, pulling away.

"James," Emer scolded softly. The boy frowned, the corners of his mouth sagging in defiance.

"It's fine," Gillette said hastily, sinking a hand into his pocket. "They know me too well." He extracted two pieces of sugar candy and presented them each to the ecstatic children. Now it was Emer's turn to frown. She did not like the idea of giving them such a sugary treat so shortly after breakfast.

"Nelly, James, why don't you go to the stables and give Maeve your sugar. I am sure she would love a visit."

The children's glee at Gillette's visit was replaced by the excitement of the prospect to visit their favorite horse. Together they trotted through the hall and out the back door. With a soft grunt, Gillette stood.

"Is the Commodore in by any chance?" he asked politely.

Emer shook her head. "He is at the fort already. Left early this morning." Gillette's boyish face succumbed to disappointment at her words.

"Pity. I would have liked to be the one to tell him."

"Oh?" Emer rose and pressed her hands to the back of her chair.

"An old friend of his is back in town. He'll want to know all about."

"Old friend? James didn't mention anything to me about it." Her eyebrows arched curiously.

"Not likely, though I am sure you have heard of him, Mrs. Norrington."

"I have?" she pressed him. Emer did not usual ask so many questions but Gillette's tone alone piqued her suspicions.

"Jack Sparrow," the Lieutenant pronounced the name with a great deal of disgust.

"Jack Sparrow. Isn't that the…"

"The pirate who managed to escape seven years ago. Hasn't been seen or heard of since."

"Yes, he was the one who aided in the rescue of Mistress Turner, I believe."

"Hmm, the Commodore swore to bring him to justice but the scoundrel fled."

"Yet now he is back." Emer walked around the table and came to stand in front of Gillette.

"So rumor has it, madam. Though why Jack Sparrow would return to Port Royal where the noose awaits him I do not know. The man is clearly daft."

"Clearly," Emer said thoughtfully.

"Well, Mrs. Norrington I must be off."

"So soon? Won't you have a bit a breakfast?" she asked hopefully. Perhaps she could pry some more information out of the old family friend. And for a moment, she thought he might very well take her up on her offer, as he looked over the table laden with fruits and sweet rolls.

"No, I mustn't," he answered with a thankful smile. "I am wanted at the fort. Good day to you, madam. Please give the children my regards."

Emer nodded. "Yes, I will. Thank you, Lieutenant." Her words were spent and she turned from him, listening to the echo of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Standing alone in her parlor, the young woman allowed herself a moment of breathless triumph. The waves had brought this boon to her. The tempestuous, fickle seas had heeded a lover's plight. Her wait was over. With a girlish laugh she gathered her skirts and hurried out to the stables to join her children.

* * *

When Norrington returned to his home that evening, he appeared more harassed and disturbed then ever. The children were quiet, weary from their afternoon spent in the stables brushing Maeve. Emer remained as demure and firm as always. She didn't want her husband to sense that anything could be amiss.

His rather harried state of mind distracted him though. She let him speak bleakly at dinner and even held her tongue when he mentioned hiring a teacher for the children. Normally this topic would send her into fits of fury. Her own tutor in Ireland had been a cruel old fellow and she couldn't bear the thought of her own little darlings being forced to endure such misery. But now it was essential for Emer to keep her husband's mind elsewhere. She would have told him that her horse had once more escaped from her stall just to keep him occupied.

Fortunately, Norrington found himself too tired to sit up that night and retired at the same time as the Nelly and Little James. Emer took care to tuck them into bed, hoping her husband would doze off before she joined him in the room across from the nursery.

"Tell us of the bird lady again, Mama," Little James demanded even as his eyes drooped.

"No, we heard that story last night," Nelly sighed, pulling her comforter up to her chin. "I want to hear about the fairies."

Emer searched her mind for a suitable tale, her eyes glancing out the window to the harbor. The pastel colors of the walls faded as the stars emerged in the heavens. A newly arrived merchant vessel sat comfortably in the bay, the source of her husband's aggravation earlier that day. The captain of the ship had tried to smuggle in illegal goods. But of course the contraband never got past Norrington's watchful eye, not much did.

"In Ireland during the Samhain nights many yeas ago, there lived a goodly man named Nera," she mindlessly began the bedtime story but the children were already asleep. She smiled and touched their smooth foreheads before blowing out the candle.

Norrington paced the length of their bedroom when she entered a moment later, his coat removed and his stock half undone.

"What is it?" she asked in her soft manner. Silently, she wondered if Gillette's news troubled him.

He stopped pacing and sighed. "A foolish matter."

"Those are the most troublesome."

"Never mind. Lieutenant Gillette mentioned that he stopped by this morning."

Here it was. Emer strained to appear nonchalant. "Nelly and James were pleased with his visit. It would be nice to invite him to dinner sometime this week."

"I'll be too busy at the fort," he said, running his fingers through his close cropped brown hair. The dratted white wig stood nearby on the dresser, perched regally on a stand. Emer waited a moment, her breath catching uneasily in her lungs. Would he mention Jack Sparrow?

Norrington slowly removed his waistcoat and threw himself onto the bed, too tired to exchange his breeches and shirt for nightclothes. Emer turned away and smiled, on the pretense that she too was preparing for bed.

"It is terribly warm tonight, don't you think so James?"

"Mmm," he mumbled, hand shielding his eyes from the candlelight. Emer seated herself in front of her dressing table. Her fingertips danced along her red locks and began to separate each piece for braiding.

"I have half a mind to take a walk down by the harbor."

"Yes." His words were slurred now, sleep was taking him.

"You don't mind of course?"

This time he muttered no reply and the sound of his heavy breathing soon reached her ears.

"Just as I thought," she said happily. Emer stood and quietly fetched her cloak from the clothespress. It would not be fitting for the Commodore's wife to be seen frequenting the grungy taverns near the harbor. But it would be a necessary evil if she wanted to find her husband's old rival, Jack Sparrow and petition his aid.

Her mind already grasped the misty dreams of the future. She saw the thundering waves and the gallant ships battling against them. As it had worked for Elizabeth Turner, so would it succeed for her. This was the road to her James' heart through the ways of a pirate.

**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you think.


	4. Chapter Four A Meeting at the Lioness

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter four! I am sorry to say that Commodore Norrington and his children will not be joining us for this chapter. But there is tons of Jack for all you pirate fans out there. I would like to thank all my reviewers ElfLuver13, Deceptive Kindness, Charlotte Norrington and Kisskagome13. You guys are great! And I'd also like to thank my wonderful beta, Mystress of the Dark for her help with this chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.

**Chapter Four A Meeting at the Lioness**

"And there she was, struggling' and strainin' against the sea. Oh it was a sore sight for any man's eyes with the Captain latched to the helm screamin' out all his madness."

The old tavern keeper paused in his storytelling for a moment and snatched up Jack's empty mug. Mindlessly, he filled it to the brim with amber rum.

"She gave one great lurch, I say, as if it were in her mind that she were goin' down into the black depths."

"And then?" Jack prompted lazily, grabbing back his mug.

The man smiled proudly till every one of his moldy teeth showed. "There was a great crack and her hull split open. Finally the wave had conquered her." He laughed challengingly and brushed his heavy knuckles over the wisps of white hair clinging to his head. Jack fingered the beads hanging from his beard, making them dance against the wooden counter. The Lioness was empty tonight save for two grimy patrons that glowered over a checkers game in the corner.

"King me!" one proclaimed loudly and slammed his black piece down on the board.

"What are you playin' at? Cheatin' me you stupid sod!" his opponent bellowed back.

"Aye, take it outside then," the tavern keeper cried as a minor tussle ensued. "This here is a fine establishment." He spit onto the counter and ran his greasy rag along it. Jack lifted his mug as the cloth bypassed him. The others were already halfway out the door when the sound of flesh and fist colliding echoed in the street. Jack listened to the fracas for a moment. He much preferred the taverns in Tortuga. This one happened to be too small for his liking with rough wooden chairs clustered loosely around tables. Out of sheer boredom, he pulled his chair up to the long counter and prodded the old man for sea tales. But much to his dismay the stories conjured were lackluster and he began to feel the familiar ache for some sort of excitement…anything.

"I have a better story for ye mate, much better," he said confidently.

The tavern keeper cast a watery glance towards him. "Eh?"

"Ever hear of the _Black Pearl_?" Jack asked.

"Heard enough," he allowed as the door creaked open. Briefly the sound of the two men scuffling in the street blared through. But the cloaked patron shut the door quickly and only the constant roar of the ocean could be heard. Jack and the old man ignored the new arrival who found a seat not too far away.

"Well I can tell you more," Jack continued. He took a long draught from his mug to build up the suspense. "I found her off of Isla de Muetra seven years back. And I fought the dreaded Captain Barbossa meself."

"Codswallop." The old man turned away, unimpressed. "Everyone's heard that tale before. Old news mate."

Jack frowned as his listener turned away to attend to the other customer. His tales were failing to catch attention these days. Perhaps the famous Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't so famous anymore. Truth be told he had only come to Port Royal to dodge some relentless debt-collectors. The _Pearl _had been badly banged up in a recent run-in with a merchant ship. It was all Jack could do to sail her safely around to Tortuga and get her patched up. But his funds were low and the price for repair was high. After an impromptu getaway he instructed Anamaria and Gibbs to sail his beloved ship about for a while and to drop him off in the only place the debt collectors would never search for him, Port Royal. He alerted the Turners to his arrival and had enjoyed a private Sunday dinner with them. They had offered to shelter him until his departure though he promptly declined. He wanted to return to his ship as soon as possible and if Anamaria could be counted on she would arrive in three days. So far he had managed to go along undetected and keep his head out of the noose. If only his luck would continue…

The thought of such an end made him tense. He drummed his fingertips along the rim of his mug. Money, if only he had a few pieces of gold he could fend the men off. But it would be hard to maraud and plunder without drawing attention to himself.

"Do you have any wine?" The cloaked patron had drawn up a chair and now sat to his right. Jack was surprised to hear a female voice issue from beneath the brown hood.

"Sorry ma'am I gots rum, rum and more rum," the old man said gruffly. "What'll ye be havin'?"

She sighed. "Rum, I suppose."

"Aye, a fine choice if I do say so meself," he remarked and proceeded to fill a fresh mug. Jack watched the woman closely for a moment. She sat still, hands clasped on the counter. He saw her bony knuckles, like snowy mountains protruding beneath the flesh. Her hands were otherwise well-cared for, the nails clean and even. A woman of breeding in a tavern like this?

The old man placed the mug down hard and traces of rum spilled over. "There ye are."

She nodded stiffly and wrapped her fingers around the handle. A few minutes past by and she still did not raise it to her lips. Jack fidgeted and drained his own mug. This lady, whoever she was, certainly had no taste for rum.

"Are ye goin' to drink that, lass?" he asked finally. The cloaked woman shifted and turned around till she faced him. The firelight from the candles just caught her face enough to give him a brief outline. She looked young and pale.

"No." She slid the mug along the bar towards him. "You take it."

"Thanks, love, money's tighter than anything these days." Gratefully, he gulped the drink until his insides blazed with newfound warmth.

The woman still eyed him, dissecting his every feature. "Are you a sailor, sir?"

"You could say that," he answered.

"Would you take a job if I offered it to you?" she asked. "For money."

"What sort of job then?" Jack asked somewhat suspiciously. It was not every day that a high placed woman waltzed into a seedy tavern and offered him a job.

"More like a favor…Captain Sparrow."

Jack bolted out of his chair. It wobbled violently and crashed to its side with an almighty clatter.

"Aye, take it outside then!" the old man shouted mechanically from the other side of the tavern.

"I'm sorry, sir." The woman leapt to her feet as well. Her hood fell back and revealed a thin, chalky face. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not wise to bandy about a name like that," Jack warned, eyeing the lass. "Especially with people like the Commodore running about. Ye could have an innocent man put to death for no reason."

"I'm sorry." She was pleading now. "Truly, I meant no offence. I am not from around here." Skillfully, Emer let her brogue slip through. Being around pirates made her nervous and with good reason. Her husband's horrendous tales of murders and raids still chilled her to the bone. But a woman must do what a woman must.

"I can tell that," Jack replied. In his mind he began to weigh his chances. The girl didn't look like much of a threat. But then again, Elizabeth Turner appeared demure and sweet when she wasn't battling Barbossa's men.

"Mr. O'Riley then." Emer forced herself to sit though her legs shook terribly. "That's a nice name isn't it? I'll just call you Mr. O'Riley. Yes?"

Jack sighed. This could be trouble. But the thought of gold calmed him. Reluctantly he up righted his chair and plopped down upon it. After all he was known for taking risks. It had given him his one-time famous name.

"Where ye from, love?"

"County Galway," she said hurriedly, her words rushing together. "In Ireland."

"Been to Dublin meself," Jack said slowly, letting his hand rest on his thigh near his cutlass.

"Dublin's alright, I suppose." Emer frowned as she remembered the city. "But Galway is much nicer. The countryside is beautiful and on summer evenings the twilight seems to last forever."

"Aye so it does," said the pirate dreamily thinking of his own beloved Caribbean sunsets.

"See the matter is, I don't have much experience in sailing." She looked at him hopefully. "And I need a job done. I can pay you well."

"Now why would such a fine upstanding lady like yerself wander down hear and want to hire a sailor ye hardly know?" Jack questioned shrewdly. He half expected the Commodore's men to come bursting through the door. But it was either that or face his debtors, and he thought he had more of chance remaining where he was.

"I have heard of your reputation from certain people that I hold in high esteem," Emer said, studying her hands folded in front of her. "Mistress Turner told me of how you helped her escape from Captain Barbossa's hold and how you saved the men of the Dauntless."

"I don't know about saved," Jack mumbled, then shook his head quickly. "Which is not me saying that I _am _this certain person yer talking about. Everyone's heard that tale around these parts." Though it hadn't been mentioned recently, he thought grimly.

"I have also heard of how Mistress Turner broke her engagement to the Commodore and he pined for some time." Now she could not repress the sigh that rose up within her. It filled her lungs, threatening to burst and burn if she did not release it.

"What is it yer asking of me, missy?" Jack let his eyes dart around the tavern. No sign of the Commodore's men yet.

"I want you to sail me about in your ship," she said softly. For all her planning and dreaming, her own words now frightened her. "Pretend to kidnap me like Barbossa did to Mistress Turner. And then when the Commodore has just about caught up with you…"

"Commodore?" Here it was. Jack raised himself slightly off his chair, ready to flee.

"Let me finish," Emer replied firmly as if she were speaking to one of her children. "Commodore Norrington will chase after me once he has learned of my so-called 'capture'. And when the Dauntless is bearing down on you, I will go off in a small boat and row back to him, buying you time to get away."

Jack stared at her dumbfounded. "And why would ye want to go through all this trouble."

"Well," she said, shifting awkwardly. "I thought perhaps if the good Commodore was forced to rescue me just as he did with Mistress Turner all those years ago he might…he might look at me the same way he does her."

"Ye want to reenact the whole escapade with the _Black Pearl_?" Jack's dark eyebrows shot up.

"Yes more or less. Without the dead pirates and all." She smiled widely.

"Are ye daft?" But then he grinned. "Daft like me."

"What I am offering, Mr. O'Riley, is enough gold to keep you well for a long time, an easy way to enhance your reputation and a guarantee that you will not come to harm though you may have the entire Royal Navy stationed at Port Royal after you."

"No one can guarantee that darling."

"I can," Emer answered swiftly.

"How?"

"Though he doesn't like to admit it, Commodore James Norrington will do what I say. And if I am standing aboard his ship after my harrowing 'capture' begging him to spare the life of the misled pirate who conducted me with all honor off his ship and back to safety, well I doubt he would refuse."

"And what makes ye think that ye hold that much power over the ol' Commodore?"

"Simple." Emer said softly. "I am his wife."

Jack leaned back dangerously far on his chair and chuckled. "So I see, love. Well, if ye don't mind me saying Norrie's done pretty good for himself since I last saw him."

"Two children as well," she added.

"Been busy too."

"So what do you say, Mr. O'Riley? I give you my word as an Irishwoman from County Galway."

"Where the twilight last forever?"

"Yes." She nodded hopefully.

"Now what's in it for me again?"

"I've already told you, money and a new tale for you to spin. Imagine telling people how you led the Royal Navy on a wild goose chase throughout the Caribbean without coming to any harm."

"Aye," he mumbled appreciatively. "I likes the sound of that. But maybe I'm not being sensible. Common sense would suggest that I would have fled the moment ye recognized me. How did ye do that by the way?"

Emer allowed herself a low chuckle. "All the times James has described you to me. I could point you out anywhere. And I heard word that you were in town. The rest was just luck. I thought you might stop in for a drink and I was right. "

"Mmm," Jack studied his mug for a minute. "What happens in the unfortunate event that yer dear husband doesn't take the bait?"

"He will," Emer said confidently. "I know my James."

"But if he doesn't?"

"Well then, you and I will have the pleasure of returning to Port Royal with your canons pointed squarely at his stubborn self."

"I like the way ye think, mate," he said, eyes shining with mirth and a good deal of rum. "Might I ask yer name?"

"Emer," she answered and rose slowly.

"Well Emer," Jack said as he pushed back his stool and managed to find his feet. "Maybe it's because I have had more than me share of drink tonight and I'm about as soused as any good fellow, but I've always been one to take chances. Do we have an accord?" He held out his hand and Emer hesitated. Finally she smiled and shook it.

"Yes, Captain Sparrow. I believe we do."

**Author's Note: **I know, not like Jack to be so trusting, especially of the Commodore's wife. But just wait until Anamaria gets her hands on him. Thanks for reading! Please review.


	5. Chapter Five Kidnapped

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter five. I would like to thank my reviewers, Ms. Elizabeth Turner To You, Jackeroe, Kisskagome13, ElfLuver13 and Charlotte Norrington. Thanks for your continued support! I would also like to thank my beta, Mystress of the Dark, for her help with this chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.

**Chapter Five Kidnapped**

The next few days passed by tensely for Emer. Her husband came and went as usual, making his dutiful trips to the fort. He didn't suspect the mischief that went on in his household. Emer had made all the arrangements with Jack, how much he would be paid for this little escapade, where they would meet and at what time. She repeated the list her constantly in her mind, fearing she would forget and miss his ship altogether. Of course he had demanded an advance. That had cost her an emerald brooch. It was a small price to pay for the benefits she would reap in the end.

Little James and Nelly, unlike their father, had not failed to notice her worried manner. In fact Little James proclaimed on the afternoon before her departure that "Mama was nervous like Maeve." Emer had hushed him but not quickly enough. The servants were listening and from then on they eyed her suspiciously.

Nelly kept her thoughts mostly to herself. But when she looked at her mother, her innocent eyes would go wide, as if she were trying to understand something beyond her years. Emer felt as judged by her, as if she were facing the Lord's throne during the last days. She struggled to keep them busy, all the while running through her essential list. The south docks, half past midnight, look for Captain Sparrow.

The eve of her departure loomed like a great gale sweeping in along the ocean. Terrifying and exciting, bringing renewal or perhaps even death. Dinnertime was a nervous affair. To think that in a few hours she would be leaving her family for a pirate's ship, unsure of when she would return…Emer thought her will was about to break. Halfway through the meal her husband looked up with a triumphant smile on his handsome face.

"Aha!" he proclaimed suddenly.

Emer jumped half a foot into the air and knocked over her glass of wine. "What is it, darling?"

"I have just realized something," he remarked.

"Oh?" Nelly and Little James looked on curiously. Never before had they seen their mother so undone.

"Maeve has not escaped from her stall these past three days."

"Ah, yes." Emer sighed inwardly.

"Perhaps that mare has finally settled down. Do you think?"

"One can never tell with horses," she replied softly as a servant leaned over, sopping up the crimson wine with a linen napkin.

Dinner proceeded with little ado, though Emer thought her nerves would never recover. Perhaps her James _did _know of her trickery. And now he was simply torturing her with unspoken accusations, waiting for her to confess. No, he would never prosecute her in such a manner. Even though he had difficulty showing it, his love for her was sincere and pure.

The children retired early, as usual. Their father announced that he too felt exhausted and would sleep deeper than the dead that night. As Emer watched him lay back on their feather bed with a sigh, she thanked every saint in Ireland for this most generous boon. The momentous pause that reigns in-between the waking world and the land of slumber soon passed. His breathing became slow, steady. She watched his chest rise evenly and her heart swelled. Was she putting her dear husband through frightful grief for nothing? What would happen if the pirates turned on her? The children would grow up without a mother, her James without a wife. Surely, he would be worse off then.

Briefly, she entertained the thought of abandoning her mission with Captain Sparrow. But since when did Emer Corrigan not take a chance for something she believed in? Her mother had taught her better. Slowly, she rose from the bed and leaned over her sleeping husband.

"James?" His name hung in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam.

He didn't move.

"James?" She rested a hand on his shoulder.

Nothing.

"James?" Being bold she poked his cheek with her bony index finger.

He snorted and rolled over, but did not wake.

She sighed. To leave her husband after all, saddened her. But he would come from her, like he had pursued Mistress Turner. If nothing else, he was a good-hearted man. Emer snatched up a simple cloth bag. which she had stashed under the bed. It contained nothing more than a plain change of clothes, a flask of fresh water and a crumbling biscuit. She had debated about whether she should take a weapon, though she doubted the pirates would let her on their ship with one. Either way, she knew nothing of defense. She couldn't wield a sword and the complications of a pistol were lost to her. Her James had showed her once, out of mere curiosity on her part. But the whole business, the wadding, the powder, the bullets was lost to her. Her father had taught her only one measure of defense, something every girl should know. She could throw one good punch and then run. But there would be no running away on a ship.

Thin shafts of moonlight painted the hallway an eerie silver. Emer shut the bedroom door behind her. It closed with an easy click. She clutched her cloth bag tightly, feeling cold sweat seep through her palms. The air was still, so still she thought it would choke her. She longed for a fresh gust of wind, a cool breeze, anything to settle her fear. Not looking back, she forced herself down the corridor to the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Nelly's sweet voice broke over her like crashing waves.

She froze, with the moonbeams feeling like ice on her skin. The child had slipped out her bedroom door, the lacy train of her nightgown like a spider web on the floorboards.

Emer's words came back to her. _Life's too short not to be blunt with them. _Daughter and mother gazed at each other in silence, until an acknowledged understanding was born. From somewhere inside her, Emer found a gentle smile for Nelly and knelt by her side.

"Mother is going on a sea voyage."

Nelly's eyes went wide with joy at such forbidden knowledge. "Where?"

"I don't know, out to sea."

"Oh." She frowned for a moment in thought. "Is Papa going with you?"

"No," Emer muttered. "You see, Papa doesn't know right now. It will be our little secret. If he asks, just tell him that I've gone down to the docks for a walk."

She nodded happily. "How long will you be gone?"

"Not long, I promise to return as soon as I can. But until then, you are to be a good girl. Say your prayers, wash before dinner. Tell Little James the same for me."

"I will." The child agreed excitedly. Given such a duty by her mother filled her with importance.

"It would also be best if you didn't tell you father I am teaching you and your brother Gaelic," Emer said. "He might not approve."

Nelly's face darkened for an instant. "He already knows. Little James told him by mistake."

"Ah," Emer said. "And what did he say?"

"He said he was proud that we could learn so fast."

Tears darkened Emer's eyes. "That's my girl. Now go back to bed." She kissed her daughter once on the forehead. "Mother loves you, be good."

The child obeyed and Emer nearly threw herself down the stairs. If she didn't leave now she never would. Maternal instinct called to her, pulling her back to her home and family.

* * *

Jack reclined on a near ancient barrel by the south docks. His passenger has not yet arrived and now he half expected she wouldn't show. Perhaps the Commodore himself would come strolling about the corner and order his arrest. Had it all been a sham? He tapped his toes uselessly; there would be no escape now.

The moon remained high in the sky, a few pink clouds clustered about its base. Ever since his battle with Barbossa, he never looked at the moon the same. It had become a cold, far off thing. A betrayer, bringer of mist and horror. But perhaps it was only his pirate's superstition. He glared at it now like a scorned lover. The ebony waters beckoned. If Mrs. Norrington didn't show up soon…

"Captain?" The voice sounded timid, different from the confident tones he had encountered in the Lioness.

"Aye?" Jack leaned forward off his barrel.

"I'm ready, sir." Emer stepped forth from the shadows caressing the docks. Jack quickly searched the space behind her. No sign of Norrington.

"Did ye bring the twenty-seven casks of rum that I asked for?"

"What?" She recoiled.

"I was jus' kiddin' ye love." He smiled playfully. "Ye look so nervous."

"You understand the risk I'm taking," she said softly, still clutching her cloth bag.

"No more than me. So as I see it, the two risks will cancel each other out, eh?"

Emer managed a thin smile. "I suppose, if that's the way you think."

"Aye it is." Politely, he offered her his arm. "If you'll just step this way, madam. All we have to do is wait for the sign from me crew."

"What sign would that be?" she asked, taking hold of his arm a bit reluctantly. A delicate fluttering noise overhead startled them both.

"Shiver me timbers," a colorful parrot squawked, landing on the barrel Jack had recently vacated.

"There we go," he said happily. A longboat appeared in the bay. Unintentionally, Emer tightened her grasp on his arm. "Are we ready, Mrs. Commodore?"

One last time, she glanced back at Port Royal. The top of her house was just visible from the docks. "Yes," she replied.

* * *

At one o'clock in the morning, James Norrington stirred in his sleep. It was not often that he did so, being a deep sleeper for the most part. He sat up, rolled his shoulders and looked about. Something was not right. The house seemed too still, the air heavy with foreboding. It reminded him of the night Nelly was born. The midwife had been sent for in all haste, it seemed as though the baby wouldn't wait. He hadn't been there for Little James's birth though, being away at sea.

Norrington turned slightly to his right, expecting his body to brush against his wife's. But when his leg met nothing but sheets and blankets, his heart stopped. Emer wasn't in bed. He threw back the covers and stood. Perhaps she had gone into the children's room. They sometimes had nightmares and she would often settle them back to sleep.

He pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway. The downstairs clock ticked solemnly. No sign of Emer in the hall or by the stairs. She was most assuredly in…

"Papa?" Nelly had slipped out of her room. She looked wide awake.

"Ah, there you are." Lightly he touched the top of her head. "Is your mother in your room?"

"No." There was something decidedly ominous in her innocent eyes. "She went down to the docks to take a walk."

"How long ago?" He felt panic rising within him.

Nelly shrugged helplessly.

"Stay here with your brother," Norrington called over his shoulder as he dashed back into his room. Nelly allowed herself a little smile. She had done what her mother asked. Content with herself, she shuffled back into the nursery.

Norrington pulled on his breeches and boots, striving to ignore his thundering heart. It was not the first time his wife had taken an evening walk, but never at such a late hour by the abandoned docks. He feared for her safety. A maid stood in her dressing gown by the foot of the stairs as he stumbled down them, roused from her sleep by the confusion.

"Sit with the children," he ordered hastily, flying out the front door. Halfway down the drive Norrington realized he had neglected to grab his pistol or sword. But it mattered not. His stomach threatened to revolt against him as he saw men gathering by the roadway. The blue of their uniforms stood out like inky black in the darkness. Gillette was hurrying towards him, up through the gate. Five men accompanied him, all sailors on the Dauntless.

"Commodore, sir!" he panted. His pale face looked ghostly in the moonlight.

"Dear God, Philip," Norrington managed. Emer…

"Captain Sparrow." Gillette gasped. In his hand he clutched a creamy piece of parchment covered with rude black letters. "Mrs. Norrington sir, he's taken her."

**Author's Note: **Awww, I feel a bit bad for poor James in this chapter, don't you? Thanks for reading! Please review.


	6. Chapter Six The Chase Begins

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter six. I am afraid this will be the only new chapter for at least two weeks as I have a good amount of homework to attend to. (Yes, I hate writing nonfiction. It is my bane as a writer.) Due to this I will be quite distracted with my article and sadly fanfiction will have to wait. But I promise to scribble out several paragraphs of the next chapter whenever I might have a free moment. I thank you all in advance for your patience. I would also like to thank my reviewers, ElfLuver13, Dancing en Pointe, Jackeroe, Jousting Elf with a Sabre and Deceptive Kindness. Also I would like to thank my beta Mystress of the Dark for her help with this chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean of its characters.

**Chapter Six The Chase Begins**

_Dear Commodore Norrington;_

_Well, I suppose I should start off my letter as civilized people do, seeing as you probably never read a letter that was written otherwise. So, how is the weather? Is your health good? How is your family?_

_Alright, seeing as that is now out of the way we best get down to business. I have your wife see? Now don't fret and accidentally rip this note in rage. That would be no good. Your dear Emer is fine and I swear on my honor as I pirate not to harm her in any way. But I am going to have to ask for ransom if you want her back. Not much, just a tidy little sum to keep me for a nice while._

_I won't be hard to find. A day or two's good sailing should catch you up to us. When you come in sight of my ship, let fly a white flag. Not that I want you to surrender, but I would prefer to deal without canons pointing at my ship. As long as you follow my instructions there will be no need for us to get into a tussle. Till then, Commodore I am_

_Your most honorably dishonest pirate,_

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

Norrington lifted his weary eyes from the note. Sparrow. The name was like a rumble of thunder in his mind, interspaced by a brief shock of lightening that set his body trembling. The man had dared to cross him again, this time taking something so dear…

"Sir?" Gillette questioned. The roadway in front of the house was silent save for the hum of the insects serenading the sultry night air.

"Ready the _Dauntless_," Norrington muttered, folding the parchment with deliberate care. "We leave at once."

"Yes sir!" The sailors came alive at once and hurried back down the road, little clouds of dust forming at their feet. Gillette waited a moment, regarding his commander with sympathetic eyes.

"James, she'll be fine," he said, trying to offer some comfort. His words felt dull and heavy though, weighed down with his own fears for Mrs. Norrington's safety.

"I don't doubt that, Lieutenant," the Commodore replied. "Now go about your duties. I must prepare for our departure."

"Yes, sir."

He waited until Gillette had disappeared into the evening's fold to weakly sink to the ground. The iron bars of the gate pressed against his back, cold and stiff, like a dead man's fingers. He pressed his own fingers to his temple. Just picturing Emer frantically pacing the deck of a grimy pirate ship and her terror brought tears to his eyes. The icy fear inside him, the low thumping of his heart. It reminded him of the day Elizabeth had turned down his proposal for Will Turner. But this was not about Elizabeth, he reminded himself fiercely. This was his wife.

* * *

Stepping onto the _Black Pearl _felt like falling into a fairy mound for Emer. She gawked at the filthy figures clustered on the slick deck. Jack had to gently prod her to keep her moving as he stepped out of the longboat being hoisted aboard by two crewmen. The shadows of the moonlight beguiled evil creatures and Emer stumbled back against Jack in her brief moment of terror. One of the ragtag men stepped forward and extended his hand.

"Welcome aboard, Mrs. Norrington. I'm Mr. Gibbs, don't know if yer husband ever mentioned me. He might 'ave." The stocky man offered her a kind, reassuring smile.

"Mr. Gibbs?" Emer clung to the name like a drowning man does to a raft. Her James had spoken of the man once or twice in passing.

"Aye ma'am." Gibbs led her across the deck. The group of pirates parted to let them pass. "I served under 'im a long while back. Good man."

"Yes," she replied, grasping onto his hand tightly as her feet slipped on the glistening wood of the floor. The sea's spray washed droplets of water up onto the ship and it fell in trickles down the railing. She shivered with an unknown chill. "My husband always spoke kindly of you."

"Well, that at least makes one of us," a confident voice murmured overhead. Emer twisted her neck until she caught sight of the young woman latched to the helm. She was a dark beauty, with skin like light coffee.

"Anamaria!" Jack scolded, fiddling in his pocket for something. "Be nice to our guest."

"I ain't got nothing against her," Anamaria muttered, giving the helm a half turn with her small hands. "I jus' don't like the idea of having the wife of a man who would have us dangling from the noose on board."

"Don't worry yerself, love," Jack said, extracting his compass and studying it. "Ol'Jack has everything under control."

The rest of the pirates had gone back to their duties. Several hoisted the sails while the rest scurried about on deck like colorful field mice. The parrot circled the ship a few times then landed not far from Gibbs and Emer.

"Wind to the south! Wind to the south!" It proclaimed, bobbing back and forth on its perch.

"See that, Mrs. Norrington," Gibbs chuckled, gesturing to an older man running past. "Mr. Cotton here welcomes ye too."

"Take her below deck, Gibbs," Jack ordered. "Do us no good if the Navy boys see her on our way out."

"Aye, aye sir. Come on then, lassie."

Emer said nothing but lamely allowed herself to be led below. There was no use regretting her actions now, not when she sailed in the middle of the maelstrom. Once Emer had disappeared into the ship's hold, Anamaria turned on Jack.

"Yer daft!" she spat. "Daft'er than a mule stuck out in the rain."

"Love," Jack whispered, regarding her coolly from his position on the deck. "Ye've known me for all these years and just now, ye've realized I'm daft. I'd say it's ye who's losing her mind."

"Bringing the Commodore's own wife on broad is madness," she said. "I thought even ye would know better, Jack Sparrow."

"Captain Jack Sparrow, mate," he reminded her. "Yer startin' to sound like Gibbs with all his superstition of women and ships. And trust me; there is a method to me madness." He pulled out the emerald brooch Emer had given him and held it up for Anamaria to see.

Her eyes widened. "Aye."

"Now." Jack fixed his eyes on the black horizon. "Take us south."

* * *

Little James and Nelly stood dutifully before their father as they did before each of his trips to sea. Norrington marveled at how different the mood was without Emer. His wife would normally usher the children into line with her stern, yet affectionate manners. Now he found tears stinging his eyes at the thought of her absence.

In the bay, the _Dauntless _rose above the clear waters, her white sails testing the breeze like a dove's wing. The Commodore had hoped to depart the instant he had gotten news of Emer's kidnapping. But of course it would take some time to call out the sailors and he had to see to the children. Becoming a father had taught him to put his children before anything. He knew that Emer would wish them to be well cared for. Luckily for him, the Turners had agreed at once to look after them. Little James, however, was less than acquiescent.

"I won't!"

"Yes, you will," Norrington told the boy. It was one thing to order his soldiers around but quite another to keep his children in line. Oh, how did Emer manage to keep them obedient?

"I hate them!" Little James stamped his feet.

"It is not good of you to hate them," the Commodore said. His children certainly weren't making his departure easy.

"Can't I come with you?"

"No, you must stay here and be a good boy, like I asked."

"Who will care for Maeve?" Nelly said, raising her dreamy eyes to her father's stoic face.

"Charles will. But I don't want you visiting her while I'm gone. After breakfast Charles will drive you to the Turners and you are to stay there. Both of you."

Little James continued to pout. "Where is Mama?"

"Shhhh!" Nelly said, before Norrington could answer. Little James made a face, but finally settled into a sulky silence.

"I will return as soon as can…with Mama," Norrington said, more for his own comfort.

The children allowed themselves to be hugged and kissed goodbye, though their father found it a bit more difficult to let go then usual.

"Take care and listen to what the Turners tell you," he managed at last. "I love you both."

The Commodore turned down the driveway, wondering if he would ever walk up it again. Nelly, however, smiled brightly.

"Silly Papa," she laughed.

* * *

Emer thought she would slide off the very surface of the earth. In her small cabin, the straw pallet on which she had slept failed to keep her comfortable. Steamy rays of heat stroked the moldy walls as the ship rocked back and forth. Pieces of straw stuck through the rough cloth of the mattress, rubbing harshly against her skin. Her first night on the _Pearl _has not been a pleasant one, her sleep wracked with strange nightmares. Distant flashes of memory raced across her mind as she tried to piece them together in her hazy waking moments. But now her stomach turned and the stench of the cabin forced bile to her lips. She bolted off the pallet and up to the deck. Grasping onto the smooth railing she retched over the side of the ship. Some of the pirates chuckled with amusement. Anamaria wrinkled her nose and shook her head in disgust. For some reason she thought the Commodore's wife would be more at ease around ships.

Emer felt her knees buckling and she slid to the floor of the deck. It was early morning. Nelly and Little James would just be waking. And her James…Did he know of her absence yet, would he care?

Jack watched his passenger's struggles a few paces away. Her flushed face and trembling limbs seemed out of place with so steadfast a woman. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her gown, something a lady of breeding would never do. He sighed.

"Aye, love, at least ye got the worst of it over with."

She looked up at him quickly, her eyes holding a sense of fierce accusation as if it were his fault for her sickness. "What do you mean?"

"Ye'll get used to it, soon enough," he noted, sauntering over to stand by her.

"I hate ships," Emer panted, her voice ragged. "Always have, always will. The crossing from Ireland was terrible."

"Is that why ye married him?" Anamaria asked suddenly, clutching the helm with her fine boned hands. The other crewmen looked up when she spoke. "So ye didn't have to get back on a ship, so ye could stay here."

"Well, I'm on a ship now, aren't I?" Emer sighed. She felt as though she had lost her self command, the sea had robbed it from her. No longer could she settle the minds of others with one stern comment. These pirates were a different sort of people and required more than a sensible explanation.

Anamaria shook her head and turned her dark eyes back to the sea.

"Come on then, darling," Jack said, hoisting the Irishwoman to her feet. "No use for you to linger in such a state."

"Is there any sign?" she asked. The desperation in her voice almost frightened her. "Is there any sign of him yet?"

Jack smiled sympathetically. "Not yet."

"Oh." Emer felt her heart sink to the bottom of her now empty stomach.

"But ye'll be the first to know when I see him," he assured his guest. "Until then, it would be best if ye got something in yer gut. It'll help settle ye."

"I am not hungry," she mumbled, still tasting the bile upon her tongue.

"Nonsense. Anamaria!" Jack called.

"Aye." The woman looked at him skeptically.

"Kindly take Mrs. Norrington to the galley and give her a proper breakfast."

"Me? But I'm needed…"

"I think you could both stand to get to know each other."

Anamaria began to argue, but in the end she gave up. There would be no convincing Jack Sparrow to change his mind once he had a notion stuck in his head. Sullenly, she led Emer below.


	7. Chapter Seven Foolishly Optimistic

**Author's Note: **I'm back! Sorry for the delay, but I am afraid sometimes fanfiction must fall to the side as real life takes hold. Still, I thank you all for your patience. Also thanks goes out to all my wonderful reviewers Dancing en Pointe, Jousting Elf with a Sabre, Elfluver13, Smithy, Jackeroe, teela1978, and Rosalyn Lavoisier. Your support and encouragement is greatly appreciated. And of course, thanks goes out to my beta, Mystress of the Dark for her help with this chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean of its characters.

**Chapter Seven Foolishly Optimistic**

It had been two days. He knew it not by any normal sense of time but in the way the water stretched out endlessly before him, the way the sun glinted on the waves and the way the moon smiled at night. Two days and still no sign of her. The first night aboard the Dauntless had been bearable, Norrington decided. His hope was young then and the thought of vengeance a strengthening elixir. But with the dawn of the second day he felt his faith wane and his limbs begin to ache with a growing weakness. What if he never found her?

Norrington's thoughts were with his children when not preoccupied with his wife. To grow up without a mother was a terrible thing and a pain one never escaped upon reaching adulthood. A pain he knew. He recalled when his own father had tried to explain why his mother was no longer there. Words like "influenza" and "death" are foreign to children and mask the dire circumstances they express. Norrington feared ever having to whisper such to his Nelly and Little James.

The Dauntless glided upon the silky waters, gentle waves caressed her hull. There was a time when he could take comfort in such a simple pleasure as smooth sailing. But not now. He only prayed the sea would deliver him quickly to that dratted ship of Sparrow's.

"James?" The informal tone shocked Norrington out of his thoughts.

"Lieutenant?"

Gillette approached his commander easily, always one to master the grace of his French forefathers. Beads of light from the dying sun trickled across the deck and washed over his pale face. "The horizon is bare, sir."

The reminder poked at the Commodore like a brand against wounded flesh. "Unfortunately so."

"But that is not what I came to talk to you about."

"Forgive me for my rudeness Lieutenant, but my mood is sour and a discussion is not to my liking."

Gillette watched him for a moment with hazy eyes like Nelly's. Fairy eyes, Emer would have said. "Not to disturb you then sir, but it is worth noting." He paused and scratched his neck where the rough horsehair wig brushed his tender skin. "Sparrow could not have pulled this off without some manner of help."

"Help?" Norrington raised his eyes slightly to study the younger man's countenance.

"How would he have known otherwise, sir, that Mrs. Norrington was your wife? How would he have known of her movements? Where she would be and when."

"And by that you mean?"

"A person, perhaps in Port Royal could have informed him."

"The Turners." Norrington felt the name fall heavily from his tongue.

Gillette's face flushed and he tapped his feet along the wooden planks of the deck. He had never fully forgiven Will Turner for stealing the Dauntless and then the Interceptor right out from under him. "I did not mean…"

"I know what you meant Lieutenant and I see no wrong in your thoughts, as long as they don't turn to accusations," Norrington said.

"No, not at all. Perhaps it was too harsh of me."

"It is a thought worth mentioning," the Commodore allowed. "And it may be worth investigating."

The Lieutenant's eyebrows shot upwards. "Truly sir."

Norrington studied the wood grains that shaped fine patterns along the ship's railing. It pained him to even think that the Turners would do such a thing. But then again, Will was no timid blacksmith. The blood of a notorious pirate flowed in his veins, embedded with instinct and the knowledge of a scoundrel. It would only make sense that…

"Mistress Turner would never endanger Emer's life," he said. "And how could I even accuse the Governor's daughter of such a crime?"

"Forgive me sir, I meant no offense. But if she did not know about it…"

"There is no reason to discuss the matter now," Norrington interrupted him. "Though an inquiry, perhaps on our return to Port Royal, should be made."

The sun was halfway below the horizon, casting forth crimson rays upon the ever shifting waters.

"Sparrow cannot be that far out to sea," Gillette commented. The eerie stillness tore at him.

"The _Pearl _is a fast ship," Norrington admitted. "It is unfortunate that we departed a day late."

"Still so guilty, James?"

Again, his subordinate's informal tone shocked him. Even though the two had established a strong friendship as comrades in arms, Gillette never addressed him so freely aboard ship.

"Guilty?"

"Yes, the same guilt you felt on your wedding day when you married that girl to satisfy the pangs of your broken heart."

Norrington did not know whether to feel angry or abashed. He settled for tightlipped silence.

"She loves you, has loved you since that day."

"I know," Norrington growled, unable to contain himself. "And I mind it every day, with every caring glance she bestows upon me. Do you think me so wicked as not to care for her in return?"

Now it was Gillette's turn to be quiet. He mulled over his thoughts carefully before finding the right words. To provoke his commander's anger at such a time was unwise.

"Mrs. Norrington often spoke of Irish superstitions," he said finally. "Everything had a reason for happening. Perhaps, this is one such occasion. It might change things for the better."

The Commodore stared at him. "You never struck me as foolishly optimistic, Lieutenant."

Gillette turned away with a sigh. "One of us has to be."

* * *

It had been two days. Emer knew it not from the looks she received from the bedraggled crew but from the way her desperate hope had turned to anger and then to grief. She thought herself a horrid mother. For what maternal woman would abandon her own children for a foolish game? Searching the horizon for hours on end had lost its luster. Now she observed the pirates moving about the ship, a distraction if nothing else. They had treated her kindly, especially Gibbs. Jack had become a distant figure as he held a vigil by the helm with his compass. Anamaria continued her duty of seeing her to meals, though she performed the task curtly and without a smile.

On the third morning mist hung about the masts and tangled in the sails. For once Emer felt reluctant to leave the top deck. The stormy weather brought to mind the fields of Ireland. Gray and green, the colors of a land where saints had trod on the heathen roads and the moss that clung to the standing stones echoed with the pulse of a forgotten drumbeat. She had been smitten as child, lost to the love of the moors swimming with heather and the blast of frigid wind that rumbled through the valleys even in August. But the Caribbean had brought her a new love, her James. And as a fickle hearted woman she cast away her homeland for the tropics, with its sultry air and white sands. Yet in the deep hours of the night, when the endless lapping of the waves disturbed her sleep, Emer wished for Ireland

"Aye, aren't ye coming?" Anamaria stood just far enough away as to not seem interested in her charge's business.

"Yes." The Irishwoman withheld a sigh and tore her eyes from the gossamer traces of mist. Rain had begun to splatter along the deck. Mr. Cotton's parrot took shelter under a coil of rope while the crewmen scurried about, undaunted by the change in the weather.

"No good for ye to be starin' out at the sea like that," Anamaria mumbled as she led the way down the stairs. "Make ye lovesick."

"I already am." The musty smell of the galley soon assaulted Emer's senses. Her stomach had settled some since her first day on the ship though the food she was presented with did not appear at all enticing.

A small wooden table sat in the middle of the galley. Its sides were well scuffed having been knocked against the wall more than once in a storm. The chairs were in a similar state of disrepair, missing arms and wobbling uneasily when sat upon.

The pirate fetched a grimy bowl and ladled a small helping of what looked like porridge into it. Gruel, Emer thought. She had seen the peasants on her father's estate eating it when she rode by on her pony.

Her gaze found the dark beauty's face, still twisted with annoyance. The rest of the crew had become acquainted with her, all except this woman.

"You don't trust me?"

"Not as far as I could throw ye, lady." Anamaria thrust the bowl on the table and threw herself down on a chair.

"I don't blame you for it." Emer looked skeptically at the food before her but took a tentative spoonful. "If a strange woman came into my home…"

"My home, ye think this is my home?"

"I assumed." She placed the gruel to her lips, grimaced and managed to swallow.

"Well it ain't. Got me own ship. A right fine one too. I'm just doing ol'Jack here a favor."

"That is very kind."

"And I don't have much patience for favors." Anamaria twisted the red bandana tied about her brow. "I'm not doing any favors for ye either."

"I didn't ask for one," Emer spoke sternly. "I have paid for my passage."

"Aye, but I see ye've taken to eatin' our food all right."

Emer held the spoon limply. Perhaps this was how her children felt when she scolded them. "You would make a good mother."

"What?" Anamaria sat forward. "Me a mother? Never? I've less patience for young'uns than I do for favors."

"Motherhood is not a burden. At least I find it pleasurable. I had my first child at eighteen, a year after our marriage. And now with Little James…"

"Ye have how many?"

"Two." Emer beamed, her thin lips relaxing into an easy smile. "Nelly, is the oldest at six. Her proper name is Ellen of course, after James's mother. And Little James, he is three. Named after…"

"The Commodore hisself." Anamaria plopped her chin onto the open palm of her hand, something akin to fascination glowing in her eyes. "And ye don't mind it? I mean, him naming the children his own way after ye birthed 'em."

"No, why should I? My own parents have names that are too Irish for respectable British children. Though I do wish I could have raised them as Catholics."

"Catholics?" Anamaria's eyebrows darted upwards. "Ye Irish are strange lady. How is that ye ended up married to an Englishman, then?"

Emer sighed. "I know many that believe James married beneath his station, even though my father's wealth is nearly as great as his. The Irish, like pirates, are not held in high esteem. But my James overlooked what is considered to be an unfavorable heritage. He overlooked many things," she admitted, now frowning.

"Then if he's such a good man, why are ye dragging him along on such a chase? For fun? Excitement? Is it that boring being a Commodore's wife?"

Emer clenched her fingers around the base of the mug. A simple question, surely, but she considered her reasons for this journey private. Anamaria, on the other hand, leaned forward expectantly.

"Every marriage has its difficulties," she answered. The words were harder spoken than thought. Admitting such a problem to a stranger shamed her.

Amazingly, Anamaria smiled. "Eh, it's true I suppose. Though I've never been married so I can't speak for it meself."

"You're smiling." Emer noted. "Does that mean you trust me?"

"No." Anamaria said. "But at least yer being honest with me now."

* * *

A storm blew up, rocking the_ Pearl _gently along the waves and into the mist that fell about, like the arms of angels in heaven. Jack rested his hand on the helm, feeling his ship breath with every surge of sea water that ran against the hull. The hand on his compass twitched feebly southwest and then stopped. He snapped it shut and placed it within his breast pocket. Sailing aimlessly along the seas was his joy but now, it made him tense. The crew had said not a word about his strange business deal with Norrington's wife and even though he didn't mind her company, he wanted it over with.

Ducking and weaving to avoid his debt collectors was hard enough. But now he had to make himself easy to find for the _Dauntless_. With any luck he would emerge from this ordeal with his head still firmly in place.

"Storm coming," Gibbs mumbled, joining him by the helm.

"More than that," Jack replied, watching one gray wave rise after another.

"What's in your head Captain?" Gibbs asked, looking nervously over his shoulder at the bleak ocean.

"Hairs on the back of me neck standin' straight up," he said. "There's something more than that fog out there."

Gibbs fished for his flask in his trouser pocket. "Aye."

"Ahoy! Captain!" Jack raised his eyes at the sound of the crewman's voice.

"That'll be it now."

A younger man who had not been with the _Pearl _long rushed up, his face plastered with sweat.

"Aye, lad," Jack said, leaning his hand on his cutlass.

"Seen a ship, Captain," he panted. "A grand one, painted up all nice with great sails that heaved against the wind."

"Aye." Jack looked towards Gibbs who downed the last of the liquor in his flask. "Best ye be getting below and telling Mrs. Norrington her husband's here."


	8. Chapter Eight A Stormy Rendezvous

**Author's Note: **Welcome to chapter eight. I apologize for the great delay between this chapter and the last but right now I am juggling schoolwork, a family crisis and writer's block. I thank you, my readers and reviewers, for your patience and understanding. I promise to do my best to get chapter nine up in a more timely fashion. Speaking of reviewers I would like to thank Dancing En Pointe, ElfLuver13, Jousting Elf with a Sabre, Mystress of the Dark, Rosalyn Lavoisier, EmySumei and Jackeroe for your wonderful reviews and encouragement. Also I would like to thank my beta Mystress of the Dark for her help with this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.

**Chapter Eight A Stormy Rendezvous**

Little James pouted and kicked his legs against the wagon bed. Even the sharp eyed glances of his sister could not quell his rage. For two days he had been forced to reside with the Turners, a matter that did not please him at all. Now he found himself headed to church, which was another pastime that displeased him. Every Sunday he whined and schemed to avoid the inevitable. But his mother never paid mind to his tantrums. And neither did Elizabeth Turner.

"I hate them," he mumbled despite his sister's shushing.

"What?" Young Samuel Turner watched the siblings with gentle brown eyes. He was a sweet child and did not understand the constant bickering that existed between them.

"He wasn't speaking to you," Nelly snapped back at him. The boy was about her age, but she did not find him at all agreeable.

"Oh." The corners of Samuel's mouth turned down in disappointment.

Nelly rounded on her brother. "Be good or I shall tell Mama when she returns."

"Where is Mama?" Little James asked, momentarily forgetting his upset.

Nelly glanced at the Turners who sat in driver's seat with their backs turned to the children. "I can't tell you."

"Humph!" Little James slumped his shoulders and pouted.

Will clucked his tongue softly to the brown mare that pulled the wagon. Her ears swiveled and she picked up her hooves in a smart trot. Beside him sat his wife, festooned in her Sunday best, a soft yellow gown with a floral print. Driving to church when the weather permitted had become an anticipated event for the small family. After the service they would take the wagon along the more scenic roads of Port Royal, where Elizabeth would point out all the exotic plants and flowers to her eager son.

This Sunday, however, promised to be not so cheerful. Dark thoughts weighed heavily on the minds of both Will and Elizabeth. They worried for Norrington and his wife but especially for their children.

"It is strange for Jack, don't you think?" Elizabeth whispered as the children chattered behind them.

Will whipped his head about and stared at his wife. She never mentioned their old friend's name in public. "Jack, strange? I thought we had that one detail sorted out."

"Well, he is strange." Elizabeth ran her fingers over the edge of her fan. "But," here she lowered her voice even more, "to kidnap Mrs. Norrington. He wouldn't take such a risk."

"What makes you think he did?" Will murmured.

Mrs. Turner glanced back over her shoulder to see if the children were listening. "He left a letter, Will."

"That means nothing. It could be a forgery."

"But who?"

Will shrugged as he guided the horse around the bend. "An enemy, perhaps. We both know Jack has plenty."

"Still, that would cause too much trouble. The said enemy would find Norrington bearing down upon him in no time. Come, Will, you don't truly believe Jack is guilty."

Will said nothing.

But Little James had plenty to say.

"I want to know where Mama is," he begged so that Samuel stared at him curiously.

"Shh!" Nelly nudged him in the ribs. "It is a secret."

"I don't care!" Little James elbowed his sister back, tears welling in his eyes. "Tell me!"

"You're too little," Nelly snapped. "Mama only told me."

The boy turned to glare at her as the first few tears streaked down his cheeks.

"Why?"

Nelly sighed. "Because you can't keep a secret."

"I can keep a secret," Samuel piped up. The Norrington children ignored him.

Little James buried his face in his hands and began to cry. Nelly felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach. With her parents gone she believed it her duty to take on the responsibility of caring for him. And after all, she thought, it couldn't really hurt now.

"Hush and I'll tell you," she whispered. Little James rubbed his fingers over his eyes and sat up straight, looking at his sister expectantly. Samuel leaned forward as well.

"Mama has gone on a sea voyage. She told me right before she left."

"What is that, Nelly?" Elizabeth directed her motherly gaze towards the girl.

When his sister failed to answer, Little James took it upon himself. "Mama has gone on a sea voyage. Mama said so."

"Your mother told you this?" Mrs. Turner laid a tense hand on her husband's arm but kept her voice calm.

"Yes," Nelly mumbled, her expression miserable. The secret was out.

Will pulled back on the reins and the wagon slowed to a stop. "Mrs. Norrington knew beforehand?" he asked his wide-eyed wife.

"Yes," she managed. "Then that means…"

"Jack didn't…"

"And Norrington's after him." Will paled. "Dear God, he must know."

"How?" Elizabeth whispered.

But Samuel answered for his father. "Mother, are you going on a sea voyage too?"

* * *

_He walked along the moors, but not the moors of England. These were wild and green, speckled with purple heather and rough stacks of drying peat. It was a place he had heard of many a time, but still it felt strange and foreign. A thin muddy road stretched over the green plains. Ruts from wagon wheels filled with icy puddles. Bitter winds blew, pungent with the earthy smell of the land and mist... His cheeks soon grew moist from the drizzle... Someone was calling._

"Sir! Sir! You are needed on deck, sir!"

The image faded before him, the last bit of restless sleep floating away like a vapor caught on the breeze. Norrington jerked up from his cot. His cabin door had blown open and through it seeped a steady rain. He was damp all over. Last night he had forced himself to retire to his quarters, if only to keep his strength up for the search. Though as expected he tossed and grumbled, unable to dull the worries.

"Commodore, sir." Lieutenant Groves poked his head through the doorway. Gillette followed on his heels.

"Yes." Norrington rose to his feet, joints aching from the chill that had settled into his bones. "I'm here, gentlemen."

Gillette pushed his way past Groves and lunged into the room. "James, she's been sighted."

Immediately he was alert. "How far off?"

"Not far and with the wind in our sails we should catch up to the _Pearl _in no time."

An unknown strength filled him. He pushed past Groves and Gillette, bounded up to the top deck and perched himself by the railing. Norrington's heart thudded like the dull cadence of a snare drum summoning the men to inspections. He held his breath as he searched the fog, ignoring the curious stares he received from the sailors.

"Blasted mist, I cannot see a thing," he growled, slamming his palm against the rail.

"Here." Gillette had hurried up to his side and offered him a spy glass. "Just to the south she was spotted. Looks quite different since the last time I saw her, but still she's unmistakable."

Norrington scanned the horizon impatiently.

"There, to the south," Gillette directed once more and pointed his finger towards the indistinguishable swirls of mist.

The wind blew and parted some of the fog. Norrington caught sight of the mast and followed it down to see a glimpse of the deck. Thunder groaned above as a fresh spattering of rain washed against the _Dauntless_.

"Should we run out the guns?" Gillette asked.

The Commodore lowered the spyglass from is eye. "No, that's not what Sparrow instructed."

"You don't mean to follow the madman's orders?" the Lieutenant gasped.

"Sir, it's not wise," Groves interjected, finding his place by the railing.

Norrington grimaced. "Let fly a white flag, tell the men to keep their weapons low and under no circumstances are they to open fire."

Groves and Gillette exchanged bewildered glances.

"Unless," Norrington allowed, "I order it."

"Yes sir."

"Right away, sir."

The Lieutenants left him, issuing commands in curt, unrelenting tones. Norrington watched them with a hawk's eye. They would have to appease the pirate now. Especially when his wife's life was at stake.

* * *

Emer stood by the helm, a precarious, uncomfortable place. To her the helm was a station for those who knew the ways of the sea and ships. Since she knew nothing of either she thought her presence most unwanted.

But Jack had summoned her there for a reason. She watched the Captain of the _Black Pearl _as he, in turn, searched the seas. Gibbs grasped the helm like a man in the throes of agony. The waves were playing with the ship and he fought back, struggling to keep her on a steady course. Anamaria sniffed the wind with an all-knowing air.

"Big storm a'coming," she announced.

Emer whirled on her, unable to keep away her fear. "What does that mean?"

"A lot of things," the pirate woman answered. Emer's desperation softened her response some. "Don't fret over it yet."

Jack's cry sounded over the gushing wind. "There we go. I see her. It's the _Dauntless _all right."

"Are you sure?" Emer hastened to his side. "How can you be sure?"

"Take a look yourself, love, she's just coming through that heavy bank of fog. Ye should be able to catch a glimpse of her colors."

A mighty hull sliced through the low clouds like Noah's own ark. The British flag clung to its ties.

"Dammy," Gibbs groaned as he caught sight of it too. "Making good time, she'll be even with us before we have a chance to draw breath again. What's the plan, Captain?"

"Lower the anchor," Jack replied, tearing his eyes away from the approaching ship.

"What?" Both Anamaria and Gibbs cried. Emer made the sign of the cross.

"Jack, I'm used to ye daft flights of fancy," Anamaria spat, "but this is just plain madness!"

"Just do it," he ordered. Lightening streaked the sky. "And pray that old Norrie read me letter well."

* * *

"They're stopping, sir!" Gillette raced along the deck. "They have lowered their anchor!"

Norrington kept his gaze fixed on the white flag that jerked unsteadily upwards as a few sailors attempted to raise it. Hopefully Sparrow would be able to make out in the fog.

"Sir," Gillette addressed him again. The Commodore still didn't respond. "James!"

"I know Philip, I know," he mumbled at last.

Gillette grasped the railing as a forceful wave struck the side of the ship. 'What orders?"

Norrington stared at the massive form of the _Pearl _lingering in the water ahead of them. It reminded him of a mountain rising above the clouds.

"Lower our anchor as well."

"Sir?" Gillette recoiled. His jocular face went hard with concern.

"Sparrow will feel pressed if we pull up beside him. We must keep him calm at all times. The more anxious he is the greater the chance for rashness on his part. Understand?"

"I…yes sir." The Lieutenant's shoulders sank beneath the blue of his coat as he moved away to issue the command.

* * *

Jack paced the top deck, now slick with rain. Worried, even angry glances followed him. The crew was not happy having such a powerful Navy ship on their tail and when the command to drop anchor rolled about, some looked down-right mutinous. Jack could do nothing but offer them reassuring glances.

"Anamaria," he called. "Take Mrs. Norrington below and stay there till I call for ye."

She grasped Emer by the forearm. "Aye."

"Wait!" Emer pulled away. Her face had paled by several degrees till it resembled a length of white linen. "Why? James will not see me. Don't you dare try to fool me, pirate!"

"What do I have to gain in foolin' ye?" Jack spun around to face her. "It won't do neither of us any good to have ye strolling about the decks in plain sight of yer husband. Last thing I want is him dancing with rage. He might try to pull off some rescue attempt if he thinks he can get to ye. Instead he'll pull his ship up and ask to see ye. I'll bring ye out from below so he'll be satisfied yer safe. Then he will have no worries comin' over to us to bargain. Yer husband will know I'm not bluffing. Savvy?"

Emer glanced towards the approaching _Dauntless_, her face taut with worry.

Jack shook his head. The beads braided into his hair twitched like a nervous cat's tail. "Just trust me." He nodded at Anamaria who escorted her charge below.

* * *

The _Dauntless _and the _Black Pearl _both slid to a halt just far enough away for comfort but close enough so that dim figures could be seen pacing the decks. The restless waves seemed destined to smash the two enemy ships against each other or tear them apart with the ferocity of the wind. Captain Sparrow and Commodore Norrington faced each other across a distance of stormy water. 


End file.
